The Cat's Eye Shell

by Kate Forsyth

  ‘But how can you climb down the well without a rope?’ the duke demanded. ‘You’ll slip and fall!’

  ‘If I do, just lower the rope down to me and haul me up again,’ Luka said. ‘But don’t worry. I won’t fall.’

  ‘He’s a monkey boy,’ Emilia said. ‘He can climb anything.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ the priest said dubiously. ‘The well is very deep and the water would be icy cold. I wouldn’t want a dunking in it.’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ Luka said. ‘Emilia, I’ll get you to hang onto Zizi for me, though. She won’t like the dark or the smell, and I don’t want to have her strangling me with her tail.’

  ‘All right then, let’s give it a try,’ the duke said, with no sign of strain in his voice or bearing. They could have been deciding to climb down a deep, freezing-cold well for their own amusement, rather than to escape the cruel and barbarous death that would be the duke’s fate if he was caught. ‘But we must be quick! Father Plummer, you go first so you can show us the way.’

  The duke kindled a lantern and handed it to the priest, whose hand shook so much the flame wavered. He nodded and let Nat and Lord Harry make a loop in the rope and secure it under his armpits. He then sat on the edge of the well, his chubby face pale, as the two men began to swiftly lower him down. The light from the lantern cast strange dancing shadows up the well, and Emilia shivered and put her hand on Rollo’s shaggy head.

  ‘What about Rollo?’ she asked.

  The duke glanced at Lord Harry, one eyebrow raised.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ the highwayman said cheerfully. ‘We’ll lower him down too. He can’t be as heavy as this infernal priest!’

  ‘We’ll muzzle him so he does not howl,’ the duke said. ‘We don’t want him alerting the soldiers to our whereabouts.’

  ‘He won’t howl,’ Emilia said. ‘I’ll tell him to be quiet.’

  The duke gave a small, strained grin. ‘I have no doubt he’d understand your every word, my little gypsy, but nonetheless, I’ll muzzle him. All right?’

  Emilia nodded, though she hated the thought of Rollo being muzzled.

  She was lowered down next, Zizi clinging to her neck, gibbering loudly in fear. The sound echoed weirdly round the well, and Emilia petted the little monkey’s soft fur, murmuring, ‘Sssh, sssh.’

  Sssshhhhhhhhhh, ssssssssshhhhhhhh, hissed the echoes.

  Zizi whimpered, and clutched so tightly to Emilia’s neck she could hardly breathe. Emilia loosened the little monkey’s grip and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm her own fear as the cold, dank darkness closed in around her. Emilia hated being shut up in small places. It was like being buried alive. She felt her heart pounding frantically against the bones of her chest, and heard its muffled boom against her eardrums. She shut her eyes and counted slowly, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth.

  After what seemed a very long time, she saw the golden flickering glow of the lantern and then she came level with a very narrow slit in the slimy white walls of the well. Father Plummer was waiting for her there. He managed to swing her in, and then jerked sharply on the rope. At once it was hauled upwards again.

  They were kind to her, and lowered Rollo down next, even though everyone left up the top must have been getting very edgy as the soldiers began to search the castle. Rollo had been wrapped in Lord Harry’s heavy cloak and muzzled with his kerchief, and he was struggling wildly. Emilia dragged him into the passageway and quickly unwound the rope from about his body, exclaiming over him and checking him for rope burns. As soon as she unmuzzled him, he began to whine, his tail tucked firmly between his legs, and she stroked his ears, murmuring endearments under her breath.

  ‘Keep him quiet,’ the priest whispered anxiously. ‘And the monkey too.’

  Up in the guardroom, Luka was crouching by the stairwell, listening anxiously to the sound of heavy boots and loud cries coming closer and closer. The soldiers were in the keep already, he could hear them banging around and calling as they searched. Nat was the last to shin down, and Luka waited impatiently for the tug on the rope that told him the burly servant was safe inside the secret passage. He then struggled to untie it, finding the heavy knot more difficult to unravel than he had expected.

  Boots sounded on the stairs. Luka wrenched at the knot and at last it loosened. He pulled the rope free and let it slither down into the darkness. He then carefully lowered himself into the well, pressing his bare feet against one damp, slippery side and his back to the other. Very quietly, he pulled the wooden cover back over the well, hunching down so he did not bang his head. His leg muscles trembled with the exertion.

  Luka was just fitting the cover into place when he noticed something large and red caught on a splinter of wood, hanging out from the side of the well like a waving banner. His heart hammering with terror, he quickly grabbed it and dragged it back inside with him, dropping the edge of the cover down just as the soldiers came tramping into the room.

  Moving very slowly, Luka began to inch his way down the side of the well. It was exhausting and terrifying, for the walls were so slippery he had to brace himself with all his strength to keep himself from falling. Once or twice his foot did slip, and he had to stop himself with a wild jerk.

  Above him, the well cover was dragged back and a light shone down. Luka froze, pressing his back hard against the wall. The light did not reach him. He heard a murmur of voices, and then the wooden cover banged back on again. Sighing out his breath in relief, Luka slipped and jerked his way down to the opening in the wall, where eager hands reached out to grab him and draw him into safety.

  Luka slumped on the ground, his breath coming in great gasps, his legs trembling uncontrollably. ‘That was close!’ he whispered.

  Zizi leapt into his arms and Luka cuddled her close, then accepted a battered silver flask from the priest and took a swig. Liquid fire burnt down his throat and he gasped. ‘What was that?’

  ‘Brandy,’ Father Plummer replied, smiling.

  ‘Really?’ Lord Harry cried, and took the flask Luka was holding up and drank a mouthful himself. ‘And not just any brandy,’ he said with a grin, passing the flask to the duke. ‘The finest French brandy, begad!’

  Luka scrambled to his feet, pleased his legs were no longer shaking so much, though he felt worn and strained in every muscle of his body. He held out a long, red scarf to the duke, who was taking another swig from the priest’s hipflask.

  ‘This was caught on the wooden cover,’ he said. ‘If I had not happened to see it, we would have been discovered for sure.’

  The duke took it, frowning, and then passed it to Nat, who looked most startled and felt at his neck in surprise. ‘I’m sorry, my lord, it must have caught on a nail or something when I took the cover off the well,’ he said. ‘I didn’t feel it fall off.’

  ‘That’s not like you to be so careless, Nat,’ the duke said chidingly. Then he sighed. ‘Though it has been a long night, and a hard one. We’re all exhausted. We must all take care not to leave any clues behind us. Come, let’s have something to eat and rest a moment, then we’ll go on.’

  It was a strange meal, squeezed together in a narrow passageway deep under the ground, with only the light of one lantern gleaming on the damp walls. Everyone’s faces looked strange and demonic to Emilia, even Luka’s, while Zizi looked like some imp escaped from hell. They ate great slabs of ham on stale bread cut with the highwayman’s knife, and apples and cheese, washed down with more brandy for the men and water for the children. Luka would have quite liked some more brandy for it made him feel very bold and brave, but the duke laughed and called it Dutch courage, and Lord Harry said it was too good to be wasted on children.

  It was bitterly cold. Even cuddled up next to Rollo, with her shawl about her shoulders, Emilia could not get warm. The stone beneath her felt like ice, and a piercing-cold draught blew up from the well, so that she was glad to get up and stretch and get moving again, no matter how weary she felt.

  On and on t
hey walked, the walls pressing so close about them that Lord Harry often had to turn to squeeze his broad shoulders through. After a while the passage began to angle upwards, and the floor grew drier and not so slippery. Emilia could hear nothing but a dead silence, and see nothing but the pale curving walls a few paces ahead, lit by the lantern the duke carried. Then the path split into two. Everyone stared at Father Plummer, who sighed and muttered and crossed his breast before pointing to the right. On they went. Again and again the secret passage divided, and once the priest led them into a dead-end and they had to retrace their steps, worried and afraid.

  After about two hours, the lantern began to splutter, and the light leapt up and down madly, then suddenly spat and went out. They were plunged into utter darkness. The only sound was their own laboured breathing.

  ‘What now, man?’ Lord Harry cried.

  ‘We must go on,’ Father Plummer said, his voice hoarse. ‘Let us tie ourselves together, just in case …’

  ‘Just in case of what?’

  ‘Just in case.’

  ‘Rollo can lead us,’ Emilia said. ‘He is used to leading Noah, my brother, who’s blind. Rollo has led us through darkness before.’

  So Emilia went first, the rope tied around her waist, her hand resting on Rollo’s back. She found the rough warmth of his long coat very reassuring. On and on they went, stumbling with exhaustion, occasionally feeling a cold blast of air from some unseen opening in the passageway, and having the terrifying lurch of space opening up under their fingers. Rollo did not hesitate, though. He loped on steadily, and after an immeasurable length of time the ground beneath their feet began to climb. It was so damp and slippery they had to claw at the walls to stop themselves slipping and slithering back again. Soon Emilia was heartened to hear the unmistakable sound of the wind shushing through leaves, and then she saw a dim grey light seeping in from ahead.

  Suddenly the ceiling of the passageway dropped sharply, forcing them all to their hands and knees. Emilia, as the smallest, had the easiest time. Poor Lord Harry could barely cram himself through. At last, scratched, bruised and panting, they found themselves squeezing out through a narrow crack into an old disused quarry cut into the side of the hill. Before them the land fell down precipitately to wide, rolling waters where a river wound in gentle, glimmering curves the colour of the falling twilight. Behind them was a steep road, and thick trees, and the rise of the Downs, dark against the sunset sky.

  ‘Amberley Castle is a few minutes back that way,’ Father Plummer said, rubbing his filthy face with both hands, and smiling wearily. ‘I remember we had a fine welcome there after the siege. It’s abandoned now, I think, but we can camp there the night, at least.’

  ‘Amberley? Is that all?’ Lord Harry groaned. ‘I thought we must have walked to Dover at least!’

  ‘I’m starving,’ Luka said, and Zizi jumped up and down on her shoulder, gibbering in agreement. Rollo whined and wagged his tail.

  ‘Dare we risk going to Amberley?’ the duke asked. ‘I know his Royal Highness sheltered there during his escape – he said it was truly lovely.’

  ‘It’s a ruin now,’ the priest said. ‘The Roundheads sacked it during the war. I do not know if anyone lives there now.’

  ‘Night is coming on,’ the duke said. ‘Let’s go and take a look, and see if there is anywhere we can rest. For I’m truly worn out after the day we’ve had.’

  Emilia and Luka could only agree. Together they trudged along the dusty lane, following the others, and arguing quietly among themselves.

  ‘Why are we hanging around with this lot?’ Luka hissed. ‘If we’re caught, they’ll think we’re Royalists, and hang, draw and quarter us.’

  ‘They won’t do that to us, we’re only weans,’ Emilia said.

  ‘They’ll throw us in prison, and what use will we be to our family then?’

  ‘We’re getting along much quicker with them than without them,’ Emilia said. ‘We could never have sailed that boat up the coast by ourselves, or found the secret passage. We’d still be stuck in the New Forest, trying to get round Portsmouth. This way we’ve left Coldham far behind us.’

  ‘I suppose that’s true,’ Luka said unwillingly. ‘But why don’t we leave them now, and strike out on our own?’

  ‘Because we have no food or money left,’ Emilia said. ‘And I’m tired. My feet ache. My whole body aches! I just want to get somewhere safe, and sleep, sleep, sleep! And that priest knows an awful lot about this place. He might know where we can find the Wells family.’

  ‘What would a priest know about gypsies?’ Luka asked scornfully.

  ‘He might know an awful lot,’ Emilia said, stifling a yawn. ‘He knew about the secret passage.’

  ‘Only because he fled down it, leaving the rest of the castle to be taken prisoner.’

  ‘They would have killed him if they’d found him, and probably tortured him first,’ Emilia said. ‘He’s awfully brave, if you think about it. No one likes him, not even the duke, really. They all think he’s dangerous, somehow, because he’s a priest. I think he’s nice.’

  Luka frowned. He would have much preferred it if he and Emilia could go off on their own and not get caught up in the affairs of these Royalist rebels. But he had absolutely no idea where they were, and he was so weary and footsore himself that he only sighed and shrugged and followed the others across the bridge and up the road towards the village.

  An easy balm of late sunlight lay over the meadows below, turning all to gold. They walked slowly, uneasily, turning their faces often to listen for the sounds of the evening. Someone was cutting firewood with a regular thunk, thunk that rang out over the valley. Sheep baaed and cows mooed. The river sang softly between its banks, and rushes rustled secretively. Smoke was rising up from the forest, a straight thin line of grey that dissolved into the dusk.

  The fugitives circled the village, taking advantage of the thick woods that clustered close about the houses, and then cut through to the castle’s grounds.

  From a distance it was quite simply the prettiest place Emilia had ever seen. Small and dainty, built of stone, and surrounded by tall waving grass, it overlooked a stretch of blue water. A tall gatehouse guarded the manor house, and it was not till they were walking up the long drive that they noticed it stood open and unguarded, and honeysuckle strangled the heavy oak portcullis. Weeds stood high in the flowerbeds and sprouted between the flagstones. The manor house within the walls lay half in ruins, the roof of the great hall gaping open with blackened rafters, the mullioned windows cracked and cobwebbed.

  ‘Such a shame,’ the duke said, looking about him sadly. ‘Such a lovely spot. Think what it would be like on a peaceful summer’s evening.’

  ‘Is there anyone here?’ Lord Harry wondered, striding forward under the ancient portcullis. ‘It looks abandoned.’

  ‘The Roundheads took over the estate after Arundel fell,’ Father Plummer said. ‘John Goring, who had rented Amberley Castle from the Crown, was most loyal to the king. He went down to the inn there in Amberley and knelt before the whole parish and drank a toast to the prince. He said Parliament was made up of knaves and rogues, and no Roundhead would ever have his castle. So, of course, they came, took the castle and made a ruin of it, and drove poor John Goring away. I don’t know what happened to him. Maybe he was imprisoned, maybe he paid his tax and settled somewhere else. In the meantime, Amberley is abandoned.’

  ‘A crying shame,’ the duke said, and led the way up the long drive to the house.

  Roses hung heavy over the front entrance, and the air was filled with the hum of bees and the scent of flowers. Emilia felt a great knot in her chest unravel. She had not even known it was there. She followed the others into the house, marvelling at the beautiful carved rafters. Rollo loped at her heels, his ears pricked forward.

  Although the roof had caved in, and most of the rooms were filled with leaves and branches and mouse droppings, there was one room that was virtually intact, with a fireplace and
a big old oak dresser and some chairs, and an oak chest with some moth-eaten quilts.

  ‘We can make camp here,’ the duke said, looking about him. ‘It’s protected from view. We could light a fire and cook something hot, and rest up for the night.’

  ‘If we had anything to cook,’ Nat said dourly. ‘I’d best go down to the village and see if I can buy some supplies.’

  The priest frowned. ‘It’s a small village. It’d cause a lot of talk.’

  ‘Best not,’ the duke said with a sigh. ‘We’ve managed to shake off those soldiers. We don’t want to alert anyone to our presence.’

  ‘It’s dusk. The fish could be biting,’ Lord Harry said eagerly. ‘Luka, how about a spot of fishing?’

  Luka’s eyes lit up. ‘All right.’

  ‘It’s a shame we don’t have Sweetheart,’ Emilia said, sitting on an oak settee and stretching out her hot, tired, dusty feet. ‘She’d catch us a whole string of fish.’

  ‘Who’s Sweetheart?’ the duke asked, amused. ‘Your sister?’

  ‘Our bear,’ Emilia answered.

  The duke laughed out loud. ‘Of course! The only thing you two lacked was a dancing bear. I do suppose she dances?’

  Emilia nodded. ‘And plays football.’

  ‘If we were living in happier times, I’d insist on coming and playing a game with you all,’ the duke said. ‘As it is, I can only be grateful she’s not here. That monkey is enough trouble!’

  Zizi bared her teeth at him and jumped up and down, shrieking. Luka picked her up and cuddled her. ‘She’s not any trouble!’ he said defensively.

  ‘Of course she’s not,’ the duke replied, a smile lingering on his mouth.

  ‘She gave us away to the soldiers at Portsmouth,’ Tom muttered.

  Luka rounded on him. ‘It wasn’t Zizi who gave us away, it was you, making so much noise with your oars!’

  ‘Boys, boys!’ the duke said, holding up his hands. ‘No arguing, please. Let’s set to and make this place a bit more comfortable, so we can rest tonight, all right? Harry, you and Luka go and catch us some fish, and I’ll see if I can’t get this fire going. Nat, could you see if you can find a broom? This room could do with a good sweeping!’